This blog is not affiliated in any way with Cindy Crawford. Even if she is its de facto inspiration. It's also not affiliated in any way with Hayden Panettiere, who's earned joint top billing on this blog because she makes me happy. And that ain't easy.

Friday, March 09, 2007

300 words.

That's all I want to put on this post.So. I'm bored. And boring. If I start to write something and I'm not in the least bit interested, just think how you reader (like I have multiple viewers) must feel.The solution would be to lie. But that ain't something either. So...Actually, it's all loose ends. I want to get through a post without mentioning Heroes, but now that's gone out the window. I could gloat about how the fuss about phone-in quiz shows has led to a long-overdue and probably only temporary removal of the spacewasters, but I can't be bothered. And there is no way I'm complaining about banks again. So let's just go all stream of consciousness. (120) Whatever comes to mind.Hey, Dangerous Liasions is on. Not the one with Michelle Pfeiffer and Uma Thurman, the one made for European TV with Nastassja Kinski and Leelee Sobieski! And Catherine Deneuve, but you gotta take the rough with the smooth. At least there's no Pacey from Dawson's Creek with an awful dye job.Hearing about Stargazerz member Zahir losing his fiancee truly sucked. The poor guy.Ditto John Inman from Are You Being Served? There was a calypso years back about the show; can't find a link to it anywhere. (That was Barbados for you - also ditties about Sanford and Son and J.R. Ewing.)I hate overeating.The phrase "Best of British" sets my teeth on edge. Where does this place get off calling itself "Great Britain"? At least the US doesn't call itself "Great America." Alliteration is, sometimes, evil.I also hate charity telethons. Almost as much as I hate parades. Comic Relief is next week. I shall be sure to be out of the flat on that night.Why was yours truly not informed of Patricia Araujo working in London earlier? (287)And with only ten words left - no, wait, now it's three... two... done!

The James Horner Spot.

The Tell Them Who I Am Spot.

...is a 43-year-old guy who likes listening to film and TV music, whose days of eating entire packets of biscuits are gone thanks to the ol' diabetes, whose hair - thanks to genetics - now has a bald spot on top but who is fortunately 6'2" so it's hard to see, who enjoys the box (particularly American shows - and the often-made British claim that "we only see the best of US TV" is a fallacy as anyone who has cable will testify. I think it's Americans who only see the best of Br... I hate that term, so I refuse to sully this blog with it), who's gotten most of his friends through stories and the net, who loves writing about attractive female celebrities, who slaves at a direct mail company, and who isn't as sorry he grew up in Barbados between 1976 and 1993 as he used to be. Oh, and he doesn't seem any emotionally different from when he was 12. A man really is a child grown up, child is father of the man, and so on...